Looking at you I see how you  cry,
47 years of hell but you get up and try

your fragile too frail like your ready to break,
I'm not sure how much more your able to take.

Frightened I'll wake with you no longer here,
thoughts of you this way I let out a tear

Your hurt yes your angry with this I agree,
don't make these threats, cut the rope from the tree.

Your my mother for you I will always care.
slowly your starting to age, the grey is showing in your hair.

It's not too late to make a change,
although its hard and at fist it seems strange.

looking at you there's no sense of hope,
thinking of ways I can help you to cope.